Kali Gandaki: a road less traveled

We returned to the airport Thursday morning hoping that the flight to Jomson was on, but it was canceled again due to continuing winds in Jomson. And because of unusually late snows, the road to Jomson and Lo Manthang--in existence for only six years--was closed, so most guides were telling their clients there was no way to get there.

A last look at Machhapuchchhre, 22,943'

But our guide Namdu was from a village near Lo Manthang, our ultimate destination, and he improvised ground transport, starting with a three-hour taxi ride to the town of Beni.

Judy and Namdu making travel plans at Beni

The accumulation of taxis and jeeps awaiting fares made me think of the ancient  trading route between China and Nepal.

Beni

From Beni, a jeep took us to the village of Ghasa, another rural transportion hub, and yet another brought us to Jomson, where we spent the night.

Marketplace at Ghasa

Jomsom monastery

A 20-minute flight ultimately turned into 9.5 hours over mostly unimproved (a euphemism) roads up the Kali Gandaki Valley that cuts between the Annapurna and Dhaulgiri ranges of the Himalaya. I found that the trick to enduring the trip was to let my body ride with the bumps like a rag doll while keeping far enough from the window to avoid a concussion.                          

The closure of the road was a silver lining to our trip though, since it led to a close-up encounter with local villages and spectacular scenery.

At one point we were in a gorge deeper than Grand Gulch in Utah. Many caves have been dug into the cliffs and were used either as residences or for meditation. Namdu said the "big lamas" sometimes still come to the caves to meditate for 1-3 months, sometimes a year, during which time only one person is allowed to bring food and see them.







The small town of Jomson is the gateway to the Upper Mustang, the former Kingdom of Lo, which until 250 years ago was part of Tibet. The local language is as close to Tibetan as American and British English. Upper Mustang is basically what Tibet used to be; Namdu said that though he is a Nepali national, culturally he feels Tibetan. Only a limited number of foreigners are issued permits to visit Upper Mustang, so we felt very fortunate.

In the morning we woke to a stunning view of the 23,000 ft Nilgiri peak.












Reality set in when the "bus" we were taking upriver arrived and fueled up.

It's actually an all-terrain vehicle, and we continued bouncing up the wide gravel Kali Gandaki river bed, back and forth across and through the rushing water. Since the new road was closed, this was the only way to make progress, unless you were a hardy trekker and wanted to walk or ride a horse. Namdu said that before the road was built, he had to walk 13 days leading a horse to get supplies from Pokhara.

Five sure-footed deer that normally frequent higher altitudes for some reason were by the river.

At one point, a group of people were conducting a burial, perhaps a "sky burial" where the body is left to vultures.













The bus dropped us off at the side of the river, where supplies were being stockpiled until the road opens. The next step in the journey was to climb the pack horse trail about 1000 feet to the village of Tsarang on top of the plateau.

At about 11,000' altitude, the climb to Tsarang was a grunt, but on arrival we had a welcome meal of dal bhat (rice, lentil soup, and vegetable curry) and tea at one of the lodges that have sprung up to support the tourist trade.

We felt we had entered another world and another time.

Meanwhile, Namdu had arranged horses to take us to the village of Lo Manthang, where the king still has a palace (he spends the winter in Kathmandu). Because of the snow and mud, it took 3 hours instead of the usual two. We arrived in the last faint light of day, the only outsiders in the Kingdom of Lo.

Chorten marking boundary between Tsarang and Lo Manthang